


A Soft Touch

by hideeho



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Date, Fluff, M/M, Men in love, Pre-Established Relationship, SO MUCH FLUFF, Soft Eddie Diaz, tags to be added as we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25591381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideeho/pseuds/hideeho
Summary: A collection of buddie one-shots based on soft Eddie prompts from Tumblr.Specific prompts listed in the individual chapter notes.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 119
Kudos: 269





	1. Sweet Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT: Ice cream date (with either Buck or Chris) and Eddie being adorable. Or Eddie trying to cook and something both going wrong and going right. Instead of a million asks, here's another. Eddie + Cupcakes.

Eddie may not be the best cook in the world, but he knows how to bake. He finds comfort in the structured measurements and reliable timings. For as much as he enjoys it, it’s not often that he has a free afternoon to indulge in his hobby. It’s even rarer that he has a free afternoon when his boyfriend is also off and his son is away at a sleepover. 

He may also be looking forward to gloating to Buck that he can make something that isn’t frozen or out of a box, thank you very much. 

Chris hates lemon, so he takes the occasion to whip up a personal favorite that he hasn’t bothered to make it years. With a batch of lemon raspberry cupcakes baking in the oven he walks into the living room to spot Buck engrossed in a book about tornadoes, because of course he is. 

“Want to lick the spoon?”

“What was that?” Buck’s look is pure sin as he drops the book beside him. Eddie rolls his eyes playfully, gesturing to the spoon splattered with batter in his other hand. 

“The spoon, Buck. The actual spoon. Get your mind out of the gutter,” Eddie teases, letting Buck pull him towards him by his belt loops until he’s straddling his powerful thighs. He can only watch as Buck’s tongue darts out to lick the spoon and while he knows his batter is good, he can’t help but think that moan is a bit for show. “Okay, okay, I need to get back to the kitchen.”

“Just a little bit longer,” Buck whines, lips teasing the spot on Eddie’s neck that makes his toe curls. “I still need something sweet.” And, well, who is he to argue with that? 

It’s nice, really, making out on the couch. For once they have all the time in the world. Eddie still can’t seem to get over being able to have this. Still can’t believe Buck kisses him as if there is nothing else he’d rather do in the world. They’ve shared a thousand kisses and Buck’s lips seek a million more. It’s easy to get lost in it, especially when he’s kissing down the line of Eddie’s neck in a way that makes him suck in his breath. 

That’s when he smells it. 

“Fuck, the cupcakes!” Eddie scrambles off Buck’s lap, looking in horror as his perfect cupcakes come out charred from the over. “This is not funny,” Eddie whines (in a very adult and manly way), trying not to be annoyed at how Buck is clearly trying to stifle his laughter behind his hand. 

“And you wonder why we don’t let you in the kitchen.”

“No! Absolutely not. This is not an Eddie kitchen disaster.”

“Oh no, what is it,” Buck asks, full on laughing now. 

“This is _sabotage_. I’ve been honeypotted.” 

“You certainly didn’t seem to be complaining,” Buck points out and he has the absolute nerve to smirk. He strolls towards him, wrapping his long arms around him and pulling him in close. “How can I make it up to you?”

Oh, he has a few ideas. 

Which is how they end up on the boardwalk, walking hand in hand holding ice cream cones. 

“I can’t believe out of twenty flavors you ordered _vanilla_.”

“First off, vanilla is delicious,” Eddie defended, taking a long lick of his ice cream, not missing the way Buck’s eyes trailed the action. “Secondly, not all of us want an ice cream whose primary flavor is food coloring.” 

“I’ll have you know it is all the craze on instagram.”

“Oh, well, if it’s a craze on instagram,” Eddie teases. “You can be the pretty one. I’ll be the classic and reliable one.” 

“You think I’m pretty,” Buck asks, batting his eyelashes dramatically as he leans in for a kiss. Eddie ducks the kiss briefly, releasing his hold on Buck’s hand to grab the wrist of the hand holding the ice cream cone. He brings Buck’s hand in front of his face, darting his tongue out to lick a line of melted ice cream running down Buck’s fingers. 

“Pretty and cloyingly sweet, just like your taste in desserts.” He capture’s Buck’s lips with his own in a sweet kiss, reaching out to squeeze his hip. He pulls back gently, seeing his own dopey love-struck expression reflected back at him in Buck’s eyes. 

He bops Buck’s nose with his ice cream cone, watching as Buck’s eyes grow comically large at ice cream now resting on the tip of his nose. Buck’s eyes narrow and Eddie knows he means war. 

Eddie takes off on the boardwalk, laughing as Buck chases after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated! You can find me on [tumblr!](https://agentlemuse.tumblr.com/)


	2. The Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I need to read something where Eddie is wearing just a huge sweater or something and cuddling up with his favorite boys. Maybe on a rainy day? I need him drowning in warmth and love and happiness cus that’s what he deserves damnit!

“Buck, you can’t throw this stuff out.”

“I’m not throwing it out, I’m donating it.”

Eddie looks at the pile of clothes before him, spotting the name brands and wondering for the hundredth time how Buck could afford such nice things on a firefighter’s salary. He knew raising a kid was expensive, but he had a feeling his budget wouldn’t be so generous even if he didn’t.

“You could sell a lot of this stuff,” Eddie points out. He’s all for donating clothing; Eddie’s own closet is full of his fair share of secondhand store finds. He’s not about to spend a fortune on his wardrobe when that money can go to his son. 

So yeah, he also knows his way around a resale app. He paid for the U-Haul and gas for the move from Texas to California selling things they no longer needed. It’s not that he’s cheap, but he knows how to stretch a budget and that includes getting the most out of the items he did have. “You could probably make a few hundred bucks selling this stuff and what you don’t sell you can still donate.”

“For old clothes,” Buck questions, looking at his stuff with apprehension. “Honestly, it’s not worth it. It sounds like a lot of work and I’d rather spend my day off any other way.” 

“I’ll do it.”

“ _Why_?” 

“I enjoy it,” Eddie shrugs, refraining from going into excruciating detail about how sorting and pricing the items soothe him, how he finds haggling over prices exhilarating or how finally reaching a sale releases a shot of dopamine straight through his veins. His hobby might not be _cool_ , but it’s practical and he enjoys it. 

“I mean…if you’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie grins, already sorting his new inventory in his brain. 

Buck can only chuckle at Eddie’s expression, still confused but fond nonetheless. “If there is anything you want, feel free to help yourself.”

“Honestly Buck, you’ve got to stop undercutting your profits.”

“Consider it your commission,” Buck offers and Eddie nods his head in agreement. Seems fair. 

Eddie gets to work that night, sorting what can be sold versus what is better off being donated or simply trashed. Most of the items are fairly new, left behind as a result of Buck’s bulkier build. Hell, he has a pile of items with the tags still on them. 

Still, there are a few older pieces, dragged along from place to place. Eddie looks back over at the cream colored fisherman sweater. It’s heavy, far heavier than could ever be needed in their part of California. Buck probably brought it with him from Pennsylvania, a nostalgic relic that is finally being culled. It’s soft, comfy and it smells like Buck. 

Eddie has no intention of keeping any of the items for himself. They might be only a few inches different in height, but where Buck is all leg Eddie is all torso. There aren’t a lot of items that make sense for him, but that sweater…

It’s too big, even now that he has added on muscle. It’s big, but somehow it makes the fit even better. It will never be cold enough for him to justify keeping it. He should sell it. He should donate. He shouldn’t keep it. 

He keeps it. 

He doesn’t tell Buck. Eddie’s not sure why he would need to tell him or if he would even care, but it feels like something he should keep to himself. 

He gives Buck the $380 he made on the other items, rolling his eyes when Buck insists on giving him a commission. 

“It’s your money, Buck. It was your stuff. Just..bring over pizza sometime. We’ll call it even.” Buck does, and what he is guessing is $320 worth of legos, books and games for Chris that he just “happened” to find. He wants to call Buck out on it, but Chris is over the moon and he just can’t bring himself to fight him on it. 

Buck was going to donate all the clothes anyway. It’s not like he’s really out the money. 

They spend the night on the couch laughing, watching old cheesy movies and Buck leaves with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Eddie doesn’t want him to leave, but then again he never does. He pulls out the sweater after Buck has left and puts it on, breathing in the comforting smell of Buck and pretends for a moment that Buck is still here. 

He’s a thirty-three year old man and far too old to suddenly develop the need for a security blanket, but here he is. He goes for the sweater after the hard days, during the lonely nights, the times when Buck tries to get himself killed on the job and sometimes just because. It’s starting to smell less like Buck and more like himself, but still he finds comfort in that silly oversized sweater. 

So when the rain patters down on a Saturday night he goes for his trusty sweater. It may be fall, but it’s far from chilly. Doesn’t matter. He misses the rolling thunderstorms back in Texas, but there is still something calming about a rainy evening. He grabs a book, settling in for a night on the couch when he hears his front door open. 

“Eddie, you decent?” 

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes, marking his spot in the book and placing it on the coffee table. “Decent enough for the likes of you.” 

Buck is smiling as he walks in the living room, pausing in place as he looks Eddie over. “Are you wearing my sweater?”

“No,” Eddie states, blaming any red on his cheeks on the warmth of the garment and absolutely nothing else. “I’m wearing _my_ sweater.”

“Pretty sure I remember having something similar,” Buck points out, making himself at home next to Eddie. 

“And I’m pretty sure I adopted it when you so cruelly tossed it aside. So, like I said, it’ _s_ my sweater.” 

Buck chuckles at his lame attempt at humor, eyeing him with an expression he can’t quite place. “It suits you.” 

Eddie can’t help but grin at the praise, handing Buck the remote before grabbing his book. Buck makes himself comfortable against him, using him as a giant pillow as he mindlessly flips through the channels. Eddie doesn’t mind the lack of personal space. Maybe, if he’s lucky, the sweater will regain some of Buck’s scent. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll convince Buck to stay.


	3. Your Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: i’m just picturing eddie playing “your song” by elton john for buck at some point and he’s singing and it’s just really lovely 😭😭😭

How did he get talked into this? 

Oh, that’s right, a mop of curly blond hair and a toothy grin, looking up at him with a pleading look in his eyes. “Please, dad? It’s for charity!” 

That’s all it took for him to sign up for LAFD Talent Show to raise money for firefighters diagnosed with cancer. Chris was right, it is a good cause, which is the only reason he’s not feigning sick right about now.

Natural disaster? No problem. Dodging bullets in a war zone? Piece of cake. Singing in front of all his coworkers? Absolutely terrifying. 

Eddie has never considered himself shy, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys being the center of attention. His guitar is heavy in his hands, palms slick with sweat as he waits his turn. He traces the fresh blisters on his fingertips with his thumb, a reminder of the late nights sneaking in every bit of practice he could manage. 

He can do this. He’s not going to make an absolute fool of himself. Probably. Hopefully. He’s bound to be better than the magician, no offense to Carl. 

_Talent shows are for people with actual talent_ , his mom’s voice whispers; a long buried memory from seventh grade that is only now worming its way back to the surface. This is stupid, no one wants to hear him sing. He can’t even bring himself to join in at karaoke. What is he thinking stepping out in front of a crowd? The only people who have heard him sing over the last three years are Chris and the rubber duck that sits idly on a ledge in the shower. 

This is a mistake. 

He’s going to tell them he can’t do it. 

He scans the crowd, catching the sight of Christopher perched tall on Buck’s shoulders. They both look so happy, bouncing with excitement and pilfered sugar. 

_You have the best voice, dad! You’re going to be GREAT_! The memory of his son’s excitement abates his growing nerves. Sure, Chris might not be a music critic, but his opinion is the only one that truly matters. Well, him and--

He’ll be fine. It’s just one song. One song for charity. He’s got this. 

“Up next from the 1-1-8, please welcome Eddie Diaz!” 

Eddie can’t help but smile as his team’s cheers dominate the crowd. He ignores the way Hen and Chim are holding out their phones, clearly intent on recording his impending embarrassment. Instead he focuses on Chris and Buck, both of them beaming at him with what he thinks may be pride. 

With one last calming breath his strums the first notes of the song on his guitar. 

“It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside-” It’s easier to sing when it’s to one person and not a hundred. He focuses on Buck, focuses on the soft smile that plays on his face as he continues the song. The words are coming easier, his voice gaining confidence as Buck’s smile grows. “Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen…”

It’s surprisingly easy to sing words when you mean them. It’s surprisingly easy to mean them when Buck is all he can see.

People are singing along, he thinks, but it’s hard to tell when all he can focus on is Buck. He’s mouthing along, plump lips singing along silently to his song. “I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is while you're in the world,” he finishes, eyes widening in surprise at the realization the song is over. 

People are clapping, his team cheering and Buck looks--

He sang the entire song to Buck. He basically serenaded his best friend in front of a hundred people. 

He’s such a fucking idiot. 

He can’t exactly abandon his son at a charity event so he has no choice but to face them. He walks over to them hesitantly, happy to accept Chris’ giant hug as Chris places a kiss on his cheek. “That. Was. Awesome.”

“Yeah? Thanks buddy,” Eddie grins, pointedly not looking at Buck. The team lavish him with praise and gently ribbing before rudely leaving him alone with Buck. 

“Didn’t take you for an Elton John fan,” Buck teases gently, squeezing his shoulder. 

“I’m not. I’m a Ewan McGregor fan. Watched a lot of Moulin Rouge,” Eddie admits, finally gaining the nerve to look Buck in the eye. 

“Is that so? Well, he’s got nothing on you.” Eddie’s chest squeezes at the praise and he falls a little bit harder. It’s really not fair the way Buck can twist him into knots without even trying. 

“Have you even seen the movie?”

“No,” Buck admits with a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe we could watch it together sometime?”

“Yeah, yeah I’d like that.” 

“That’s a love story isn’t it,” Chris interrupts, scrunching his nose as if scandalized. “You guys can watch that one without me.”

“It’s a date,” Buck declares, pinning Eddie with a heated look that promises so much more than he could have hoped for.

“It’s a date.”


	4. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Dressing up for date night and being all nervous because he wants to look good for Buck (even knowing Buck would think he was hot in a potato sack). Kind of like how Buck was for his date with Abby.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” 

Eddie startles at the words, looking down at his outfit apprehensively. “Yes?”

“Oh,” Chris says flatly, sharing a look with Carla. “Are you sure?”

Eddie looks himself over. Sure, it might not be the most exciting outfit in the world, but it’s clean, fits well and there are no obvious stains or holes. It took him nearly two hours to settle on this outfit. 

“Or maybe not,” Eddie states slowly, gauging their reaction. 

“You can do better,” Chris encourages, head cocked as he looks him over from behind his glasses. Carla nods her agreement at Chris’ side, making the single most pathetic attempt to hide a smile he has ever seen. 

“Right. Okay. Something better.” Eddie turns back to his room, looking at his closet helplessly. He’s not finding anything better. He’s not going to find anything better. He has tried on every combination he can think of, but what could possibly live up the occasion? 

He’s going on a date with Buck. A real date. After three years spent in a cycle of denial and outright pining it’s finally happening. What outfit could possibly live up to that? 

A part of him knows Buck wouldn’t care if he showed up in a garbage bag, but he wants to look nice. He wants to look nice for Buck. So why the hell doesn’t he own anything worth wearing? 

He walks back to the living room, still in the last outfit they saw him in. “What would we say is wrong with this outfit exactly?”

“That’s what you wear when abuela makes you go to church,” Chris says simply. 

“Because it’s nice.”

“For church,” Carla adds, shaking her head in exasperation. 

“You should wear something that makes you look,” _don’t let his nine year old say sexy, please don’t let his nine year old say sexy_ , “handsome!” _Oh thank god._

“And I don’t look handsome in this?” Nothing to knock your ego like the blunt truth from a child. 

“You’re always handsome, dad, but you should look _date_ handsome,” Chris explains, as if he’s the one speaking to a child. “It’s okay to ask for help.” 

Eddie lets out a startled laugh at his son’s words. “You’re right, buddy. It is okay to ask for help. What do you think you two, are you up for the challenge? You have thirty minutes to make me look handsome enough for a date.”

Chris smiles, all toothy confidence as he nods. “We’ve got this.” 

The three of them stand before the mirror with fifteen minutes to spare. Eddie looks himself over in the mirror, a bundle of nerves as he tries to temper his growing nerves. 

“You look great, dad!”

“Are you sure? These pants aren’t too tight?” 

“Just tight enough,” Carla assures him to the sound of Chris’ giggles. 

“And this shirt—”

“It's perfect! Buck likes that color on you. I heard him tell Maddie,” Chris supplies and that’s...that’s...good to know. The three of them jump at the knock on the door. Buck’s early, but of course he is. He knew he would be. 

“Okay, one last check. How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Chris cheers, motioning for him to bend down. Chris puts his hands on either side of Eddie’s face, looking at him intently. “You’ve got this. Go have fun.” 

He really is the luckiest guy in the world to have him for a son. “Thanks, buddy. Be good for Carla. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kisses the top of Chris’ curls, thanking Carla again before heading to the door. He forces himself to take one last steadying breath, forcing himself to relax before opening the door. 

_Wow._

“Wow yourself,” Buck smirks and oh fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

“I’ve never had someone pick me up at the door before,” Eddie says, suddenly unable to control the stupid smile that has taken over his face. He’s on a date with Buck. They’re actually doing this. 

“Figured I should pull out all the stops if I’m going to snag a second date.”

“A second date? Aren’t we presumptuous.” 

“Confident. I’m confident,” Buck corrects, reaching forward to grab Eddie’s hand in his own. “Is it wrong that I really want to kiss you already?”

“Before we’ve even left my front step? How easy do you think I am,” Eddie teases, kicking himself as he sees Buck’s slight wince. “Hey, no, Buck, I’m only joking. I want to kiss you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you idiot,” Eddie says fondly, pulling Buck towards him to kiss him gently. Buck’s lips are plush against his own, his breath sweet from a mint he must have had driving over here. Very presumptuous. Movement from the window catches his eyes and he can’t help but break the kiss to bury his face in the side of Buck’s neck with a soft laugh. 

“Chris and Carla are watching us, aren’t they?”

“Yep, but they’re giving thumbs up so I think you have their seal of approval.”

“Does that mean I get a second date,” Buck asks, hands warm where they rest on his hips. 

“Oh, you’re definitely getting a second date, now let’s go enjoy this first one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated!


	5. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Commenting off-handedly about all the colorful flowers at a farmer’s market while they’re on a call, and getting a bouquet from Buck later that night or the next day.

“I knew kombucha couldn’t be trusted.”

“Eddie, the beautiful tradition of kombucha cannot be discounted because some idiot doesn't know how to bottle it properly.”

“Tell that to the guy with glass shards stuck in his forehead,” Eddie replies, looking back to where Hen and Chim are taking care of the last of the injuries. An amateur entrepreneur, the hottest day they’ve had all summer and build up of carbon dioxide was all it took to turn a mundane Saturday at a farmer’s market into an explosion of glass and chaos. 

Unsurprisingly, Buck’s impressive knowledge on the history and health benefits of the aforementioned drink was not a big hit with the people who had been caught in the explosion’s crossfire. After Chim’s gentle suggestion that they go “literally anywhere else”, they had some time to look over the neighboring stalls. 

It was the normal vegetables, handmade crafts and baked goods. There was a large line at one of the flower stalls filled with pretty arrangements placed in mason jars and wrapped with burlap for a rustic touch. They made for a pretty picture, but the flowers would be dead before the weekend was over. 

Eddie finds his eyes pulled to a smaller stand off to the side. There are no mason jars or burlap, only simple bouquets wrapped with brown paper for half the cost. The flowers were clearly cut with care, placed out of the direct sun and recently misted. These flowers are meant to last, picked and arranged with care. 

“Beautiful,” Eddie says to himself, reaching out to stroke the gentle petals before stopping himself. He doesn’t want to mar their gentle beauty with his roughness. 

“Those are gardenias,” Buck points out, spotting where his eyes have fallen. Just like that he’s off, explaining the origin of the flowers, the best climates for them to grow and what they symbolize. It never ceases to amaze him how Buck manages to maintain such a wide array of information. 

He can only watch with a smile as Buck goes through the flowers one by one. Buck’s eyes sparkle with excitement as he talks, his hands gesturing wildly as he goes further into detail. 

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on why Buck knows such much about flowers. Refuses to stoke the flames of resentment for the person Buck wasted the time and effort on to pick out the perfect bouquet. Instead he listens intently, watching the way Buck’s birthmark crinkles as his smile reaches all the way up to his eyes. 

“Those are anemone. You should only keep them where this is partial shade,” Buck continues, seemingly not needing air to breathe as he continues to ramble on. 

“Actually, they can do quite well in full sun as long as there is sufficient moisture,” Eddie corrects without really thinking. 

“You know about flowers?”

Eddie shrugs. “I worked at a nursery all through high school and again before I got into the academy.” 

“Then why...Why have you been listening to me rattle on?”

“Because you were excited to tell me,” Eddie says simply. He’d listen to Buck read him the phone book if it made Buck happy. 

Buck’s looking at him with an expression that’s so soft, so open that Eddie can’t help but feel he showed too much of his cards. 

“So what’s your favorite flower?”

No one had ever asked him that before. Eddie thinks for a moment before smiling. “Sunflowers.”

“Wait, what?”

“What, I can’t like sunflowers,” Eddie replies, unsure if he should be offended by Buck’s shocked expression. 

“Of course you can, but it’s not the first flower I would have picked for you,” Buck admits, as if still trying to make sense of it. 

“They remind me of Chris,” Eddie explains. Strong, resilient, always looking to the bright side of things. He can’t help but smile just thinking about it. 

“Okay, okay, I can see that,” Buck says so fondly Eddie briefly forgets how to breathe. “So what flower would I be?”

Buck is a meadow of delphinium, a beautiful expression of big-heartedness and lightness. If it also happens to symbolize ardent attachment so be it, because to know Buck is to love him. If he were to make Buck a bouquet he would pepper it with queen anne’s lace. His sanctuary. His safe harbor. 

Not that he can say any of that. 

“All-purpose.”

“Did you just _pun_ me,” Buck exclaims and Eddie can’t help but laugh at the pure look of betrayal on Buck’s face. 

“Come on, Cap is waving us back.”

“Wait, Eddie, don’t you want to know what flower you are?”

Eddie scrunches his nose, shooting Buck a skeptical expression he hopes is as playful as he intends. “I’m not a flower, Buck. I’m a weed.” 

He doesn’t know what to make of Buck’s expression when he says it, so he doesn’t try. Honestly, he forgets about it completely until the next morning when he nearly faceplants to avoid stepping on the surprise package on his front porch. A simple bouquet wrapped in brown paper. He doesn’t need a card to know who it’s from. 

Gladiolus. 

Strength of character, moral integrity, faithfulness. Huh. Is that what Buck really sees when he looks at him? A generous take, but for a moment he imagines himself as that person and doesn’t hate himself half as much. 

Buck probably didn’t realize gladiolus are a sign of infatuation; meant to pierce the heart of whoever receives it. 

It would work, too, if he hadn’t already given Buck his heart long ago.


	6. Puppy Dog Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: i was thinking about a buddie prompt where eddie gives buck puppy eyes (role reverse haha) to get him to make his fav dessert or something idk!!

His body has betrayed him. 

He supposes he can’t be too mad, it has been awhile since it decided to break down. Eddie can’t even remember the last time he was sick enough to admit he was actually sick. El Paso, if he had to guess. Before Shannon left. That’s right, she took Chris and stayed at his parents’ house so they wouldn’t catch whatever he caught. Seems so long ago now. 

The thing is, he doesn’t have time to be sick. Even if he can spare a sick day from work that he purposefully reserves for Chris should he need him, he can’t exactly take time off from being a dad. He has to keep going, that’s the gig. 

So trust his body to break down the day after Chris leaves for camp. His body may have betrayed him, but at least it has impeccable timing. That’s something, right?

Eddie spends the first night of Chris’ grand adventure away making a damn good attempt at coughing up his lungs. Sleep eludes him as he sweats through his sheets, the dampness of the fabric and the fever ravaging his body making his teeth chatter so hard he wakes up with a sore jaw. Doesn’t matter, he’s too nauseous to eat. He spends a good hour debating the pros and cons of laying on the cool tile floor to wait for death when Buck begins to blow up his phone.

“Look, you’ve had enough time to wallow,” Buck starts in, not bothering to wait for or offer a greeting when Eddie finally accepts the call. Eddie can’t help but grin, even as he buries his head further in his pillow. “I have given this a lot of thought and I’ve created an itinerary to keep us busy while Chris is away.” 

“Can’t,” Eddie mumbles against his pillowcase, wincing at the scratchiness of his voice. 

“...Why do you sound weird?”

“Dying,” Eddie states flatly, tensing against the latest round of coughing to wreak havoc on his throat. 

“Are you sick,” Buck asks with concern even as Eddie coughs his confirmation. He can practically hear Buck thinking as the silence stretches for a moment. “Is someone coming to take care of you? Isabel?”

“I don’t want to get her sick.” 

“I’m coming over.”

“Buck you don’t have to--” Eddie croaks, but Buck has already hung up. He should call him back. He should protest Buck risking his health and wasting his free day by taking care of him. He should do a lot of things, but he doesn’t. He knows Buck well enough to know he’d be wasting both of their time. 

By the time he hears Buck’s key in the door he has dragged himself to the couch, wrapping himself up in as many blankets as he could find along the way. It may be the middle of summer, but he’s freezing. It’s the fever, he knows, but he doesn’t care. He’s cold and the blankets are comfy. 

“Okay, I know you’re Mr. Tough Guy,” Buck starts in, geared up for a fight as he marches his way into the living room having clearly been practicing this speech in his head on the way over. “And I know you can take care of yourself, but it’s not going to kill you to accept some he--”

“Soup,” Eddie asks hopefully, interrupting Buck’s speech as he glances down at the bags in Buck’s hands. Buck looks like a puppet whose strings have been cut, all fight knocked out at him upon realizing Eddie isn’t going to protest his presence. 

“I -- Uh, yeah. Chicken noodle. Bobby’s recipe.” 

Eddie perks up a bit, pushing his face out of his blanket where he had burritoed himself in. “I like chicken noodle.”

Eddie likes to think he’s pretty good at reading Buck by now, but he’s not sure what to make of the soft expression that’s currently on Buck’s face. There’s a fondness there like when Chris hands him a piece of art he made, but something else. Something he can’t quite place. He blames his fever. 

Buck gets to work on laying everything out, grabbing a bowl and spoon from the kitchen before filling a bowl up for Eddie to eat. As good as the soup smells, he’s reluctant to remove himself from his blanket, but he forces his arms out into the open air. 

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” Buck observes, eyes trailing down his newly exposed skin, but surely isn’t bothering him. They’ve seen each other without their shirts plenty of times. 

“I’m hot.”

“I can see that,” Buck grins, his knee tapping against Eddie’s own playfully. The back of Buck’s hand is cool against his forehead, which must explain the sudden shiver traveling down his spine. “Jesus Eddie, you really are burning up.”

Eddie shrugs, carefully swallowing sips of soup under Buck’s watchful eye. “Thanks for the soup.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” Eddie insists. Only one other person has ever made him soup when he was sick and that was his abuela when he was eight and she was in town visiting. No one has taken care of him when he was sick as an adult. He hasn’t asked, but a small part of him has always hoped someone would offer. Buck offered without prompting, so yeah, it’s definitely something. “The soup is really good. My compliments to the chef.”

Buck straightens at the praise, his smile now reaching his eyes in a way that makes his birthmark crinkle. It’s a good smile. He likes being the one to put it on Buck’s face. 

“Eat up, we’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

He expects Buck to leave after he finishes eating, but instead he does the dishes before settling next to him on the couch. He expects Buck to leave when the sun starts to go down, but instead Buck runs his long fingers through Eddie’s sweaty hair without complaint, massaging his head until Eddie’s falling asleep under his touch. He expects him to leave as Eddie curls pitifully into bed, but he stays, bringing him fresh glasses of water and stroking his back as he hacks and wheezes throughout the night.

He expects Buck to leave, but he stays. He stays. He _stays_. 

“Maybe tomorrow we can have ice cream?”

“Eddie, dairy will make your mucus thicker which will cause more draining and...Are you giving me puppy dog eyes?”

Yes, yes he was. In his defense, it always seems to work on Buck when Chris does it. Chris is much cuter and an actual child, but still. 

“Please?”

“Eddie, I don’t think…”

“Please, Buck? It will make me feel better.” Buck sighs, but by lunchtime he has ice cream. 

The look also gets him control of the remote, free head massages and the right to use Buck’s thigh as a human pillow. Or maybe it’s just because he’s sick. Either way, Buck doesn’t put up much of a fight, even when Eddie wipes his snot on Buck’s shirt to Buck’s absolute horror. It is almost worth the side cramp he gets from laughing and coughing so hard simultaneously. 

“The kleenex are too far away.”

“They’re literally right there,” Buck exclaims, pointing towards the box sitting right in front of Eddie’s face. 

“Your shirt is softer.”

“You’re disgusting.” 

He is, but Buck still stays. He stays until Eddie can admit he doesn’t want Buck to go. 

“I think your fever finally broke,” Buck says softly on the fourth day, his fingers moving from Eddie’s forehead to stroke through his hair. Eddie’s head rests on Buck’s thigh, still wrapped up in a pile of blankets as he lays out across the couch. 

He was always going to get better. Buck was always going to leave. Still, he was hoping for a little bit longer. It’s selfish, but it’s there. 

“Maybe, but you should stay a bit longer just to make sure,” Eddie ventures, voice soft as he stares ahead at the TV. 

“You know, that’s probably not a bad idea.”

“And maybe, if you get sick, I could take care of you.” Eddie does look up at him then, blue eyes staring back down at him with that soft look he can’t quite place. 

“I’d like that,” Buck grins, his birthmark crinkling as it reaches his eyes.

Buck doesn’t get sick for another four months, but when he does Eddie is there. Buck doesn’t even have to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are loved and appreciated more than you can know!


	7. Ring of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> buddie prompt: buck finds out eddie's secret -- he's a secret johnny cash fan. of cos, buck doesn't know who johnny cash is.

He knows Buck is forging ahead into that last room before Cap can finish his warning about evacuating the building. There might be a kid in there, of course Buck is going to take that risk. It’s as certain as the fact that Eddie will be right there behind him.

They do a sweep, ignoring the ominous creaking of the floor that groans over the sounds of licking flames. 

Wherever that kid is it’s not in here, a fact Eddie can only be relieved by. Buck nods his head towards the exit and Eddie sighs a bit in relief that they can now make their way out. As if on cue, the universe knocks the floor out from beneath him. 

Eddie’s falling, hands grasping at air as the floor crumbles from under his feet. Before he can think to scream, to shout, to curse his fucking miserable luck he feels the sharp tug of something grabbing him. 

Buck.

Of course it’s Buck, now flat on his belly as he desperately clings to Eddie. He can feel the flames licking at his feet through his boots. If Buck drops him he will die. It will be painful and slow and he’ll be utterly alone. He can see the strain on Buck’s face, the horror, trying oh so hard to push down his panic so he can figure out a plan. 

Eddie suddenly regrets packing on those extra pounds of muscle. 

How much longer before the floor gives way under Buck? How much longer before Buck can no longer support his weight? He swears he can feel the dig of Buck’s fingernails through his gloves and Eddie’s own uniform in his desperation to just hang on.

“Buck…”

“Stop talking,” Buck barks, his words strained through gritted teeth. If he didn’t know Buck so well, like another piece of his own body, he might have missed the trace of fear lacing his voice; the desperation. 

“Buck.”

“Whatever you’re about to say-”

“Don’t let go,” he pleads, feeling Buck’s fingers curl tighter against his arms through the heavy layers of clothing between them. He doesn’t want to die. 

“I won’t. I’ve got you.”

Eddie believes him. 

Between the fear and adrenaline he feels a strange moment of calm. Perhaps it’s the determined clench of Buck’s jaw, the intensity of his eyes as if daring the universe to even try taking Eddie’s from his grasp. Buck’s got him, of that he has no doubt, even if Eddie knows the universe rarely plays fair. 

“I’ve got you,” Buck promises, over and over even as his arms begin to shake at Eddie’s weight. “I’m not letting go,” he declares, although it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than Eddie. 

But Buck is only human and all humans have their limits. 

The flames lick higher and he feels Buck’s hold begin to slip even as a desperate growl escapes Buck’s lips as he fights to hold on. 

“It’s okay, Buck,” Eddie promises. “It’s okay.” Buck lets out a pained sound and Eddie feels instant regret. This is going to hurt enough, he doesn’t want to make it any worse on Buck than it already is. Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can he sees shadows come over Buck, feels additional hands pulling him up and out of danger. 

They’re ushered out of the building; Buck’s hands still holding on to him tightly as if he might suddenly disappear. 

Eddie feels like he’s moving through molasses, the world on fast forward around him as the adrenaline surges through his veins. He’s sitting at the back of an ambulance without knowing how he got there, Chim checking his pulse as Hen hands Buck a bottle of water. 

“Come on, Buckaroo,” she presses gently, gesturing for Buck to follow her, to take him away. He doesn’t realize he has reached out until his hand is around Buck’s wrist, keeping him close. Buck’s pulse beats strongly beneath his fingertips, grounding him, proving to him that they made it out alive. 

“I’m fine, Hen, really,” Buck assures her, content to stay in Eddie’s hold. Hen looks like she’s going to protest, her eyes darting to where Eddie’s hold tightens before shaking her head in defeat. 

“Fine, but you’re getting checked out before we leave.” 

Buck nods, stepping closer to Eddie until there is no space between them. 

“What the hell happened in there,” Chim questions, checking Eddie over. 

“I fell in to a burning ring of fire,” Eddie says dryly, his thumb pressing his fingers tighter against Buck’s wrist. _We’re alive. We’re alive. It’s okay, we’re alive._

“Let me guess,” Chim retorts, a lopsided smile on his face, “You went down, down, down and the flames went higher?” 

Eddie can’t help but laugh, from relief or the sheer ridiculousness of it all he’s not sure. 

“Do you two think this is funny,” Buck barks, shoulders tense and his eyes narrowed. _He’s still scared_ , Eddie realizes. 

“It’s just a song, Buck. That’s all. It’s just a song,” Eddie assures him, rubbing his thumb gently against his arm. 

“Well it sounds like a stupid song.” 

“It’s a classic,” Chim exclaims, waiting for Buck to acknowledge the same. Buck just looks at them blankly. “Oh my god, you don’t know the song. Ring of Fire? Johnny Cash? The Man-In-Black?”

“Never heard of him,” Buck shrugs, getting pink around the ears the way he always does when he doesn’t get a reference. 

“Youths,” Eddie grins fondly, even if it is a bit ridiculous that Buck hasn’t heard of the greatest artist on earth. “Don’t worry, Buck. I’ll teach you the error of your ways.” 

They’re one song in before Buck declares he hates country music. 

It only takes a duet of _Walk the Line_ between Chim and Eddie at karaoke night before Buck declares he wishes he had dropped Eddie into that damn fire. Eddie laughs so hard he cries and Buck’s face watching him is--

He’d happily jump into a fire to see him smile like that again. 

Eddie sings the wondrous lyrics of Johnny Cash whenever he can, Chim happily joining along to watch as Buck rolls his eyes, huffs, puffs and stomps away in annoyance. Chim may join in on teasing Buck, but Eddie gets a much different set of reactions than Chim. 

Only Eddie sees the way Buck researches the legend himself, not because he’s interested in the man but because Eddie is. 

Only Eddie sees the way Buck’s eyes grow wide, tongue darting out to lick at his plush lower lip when Eddie comes out wearing an all black outfit the man himself would have approved of: tight black jeans that strain at his thighs, a button up black shirt open in a V to reveal a patch of hair at the center of his chest. 

Only Eddie knows the way goosebumps dot pale skin when Eddie sings low against the shell of Buck’s ear; the way Buck shivers when Eddie emphasizes the growl _just so_.

“I fell in to a burning ring of fire,” Eddie croons, flush against Buck’s back with a hand on his bare chest. “I went down, down, down,” Eddie growls, his hand sliding slowly down the ridges and valleys of Buck’s muscled abs. “And the flames went higher,” he teases, fingers playing with the button of Buck’s jeans. 

“ _Eddie_ ,” Buck whines, head thrown back against Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Nuh-uh, not until you do it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Buck mumbles.

“I can’t hear you…,” Eddie teases, sliding his fingers up to tease the soft hairs beneath Buck’s bellybutton. 

“And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire, the ring of fire,” Buck mumble-sings, impatient enough to give into Eddie’s demands. 

Eddie smirks against the column of Buck’s neck before sliding his hand down exactly where Buck wants him. He’ll make a fan of him yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love! You can find me on [tumblr!](https://agentlemuse.tumblr.com/)


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